


When the water rises (You build a wall)

by dezemberzarin



Series: I Lived Verse [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mario/OFC, Mario/OMC, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezemberzarin/pseuds/dezemberzarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario will not admit this to anyone, mainly because Mats and Kevin would actually <em>never</em> stop making fun of him, but being Marco’s best friend is a little bit like being in a long distance relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the water rises (You build a wall)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this took a lot longer than I expected it to, mainly because this story kind of exploded on me. It was supposed to be slightly emotional porn, instead it turned into this monstrosity. I want to thank everyone who took the time to leave kudos or commented on the prequel to this, you have no idea how happy every single bit of feedback makes me <3 Also, Mario's backstory in this is obviously entirely made up and I played around with the timeline of real events a little.

Mario is seven years old when he realizes for the first time that there’s something wrong with him. It’s a beautiful autumn day and Fabian has taken him to the huge park near their parents’ house to play some football. Mario still hasn’t gotten used to Dortmund and the sheer size of their new life here. In Memmingen his class only had fifteen kids in it; at his new school he’s with thirty other first-graders that have known each other a lot longer than he’s known them. That Mario is almost a head shorter than most of the boys in his class, doesn’t help either. 

Mario knows his parents are worried about him and he tries his hardest to stop giving them a reason to, coming back from school with a smile even when he hasn’t talked to anyone all day, spending his breaks reading the book he snuck from home in his backpack. It’s not that his classmates are mean to him, but they already formed their little cliques by the time he got there and Mario doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere. 

For Fabian it’s been different, of course it has. His older brother never goes anywhere without making friends, almost effortlessly drawing people into conversations and making them like him. So it’s Fabian’s little group of friends they meet at the park that day, kicking around the new ball Mario and his brother had wheedled their dad into buying them during the last trip to the mall. 

They might be Fabian’s friends and some of them are almost twice his size, but on the pitch none of that matters. Mario is fast and his feet are quick with the ball, sneaking it from the other boys with ease, drawing shouts of laughter and admiration. They slap Fabian on the shoulder and congratulate him on his little brother, ruffling Mario’s hair when they pass him. Most of them treat him like a mascot rather than a teammate, but Mario doesn’t mind. As long as he gets to play, he can forget anything else happening around him, even how much he misses home and the life they left behind when his father got his new job. 

Lying on his back after the match, grass beneath him and shielding his eyes from the bright blue autumn sky, Mario can almost pretend that he’s back in his grandparents’ backyard in Memmingen, waiting for his best friend Leon to come over and try and build a dam in the tiny creek behind the house. Fabian and the others are talking and laughing, sharing stories from school and talking about their favorite football players. It’s nice and Mario lets the background noise lull him a little, so when the magazine is tossed onto his stomach, he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Here you go, twerp,” Niko, one of Fabian’s classmates says and snickers a little. “Played well enough today.” 

“Niko, he’s too young for that,” Fabian says, but he’s laughing.

Mario frowns at the magazine in his lap; it doesn’t look that different from the ones their mom gets in the mail sometimes. There is a woman in underwear on the cover and when Mario turns the pages there are similar images, women in all kinds of differently colored bikinis and positions. One of the pictures especially confuses Mario; the girl in it is wearing a ski hat and underwear, carrying a snowboard up a mountain. Wasn’t she cold? He quickly flips through the rest of the pages and then hands the thing back to one of Fabian’s friends, who eagerly takes it from him. 

“Told you he’s too young,” Fabian snorts and Mario feels strangely put out, like he failed some sort of test. All the other boys seem fascinated by the magazine and its images, passing it around while snickering and picking their favorites. Only Niko is still watching Mario, wearing a sly expression as he glances between the magazine and his friend’s little brother. 

“You sure it’s that? Maybe he’s just gay.” 

Most of the other boys laugh, but Fabian doesn’t. He looks up with a frown, fixing Niko with a stare. “Take that back.” 

Niko raises an eyebrow. “And what if I don’t?” 

“Then I’ll take the ball and we’re going home. My little brother isn’t gay, so take. It. Back.”

“Jesus, calm down,” Niko laughs. “It was just a joke. Sorry, twerp.” He leans over to ruffle Mario’s hair, who warily glances at Fabian. His older brother seems to be somewhat mollified by Niko’s apology and they stay for another hour, only leaving when the sun starts to set and most of the other boys have to go home as well. 

Fabian is silent on the way back home and Mario doesn’t really want to talk to him when he’s that way. For an older brother Fabian is pretty alright, but he can be mean if he sets his mind to it and Mario gets on his nerves. But the question has been burning on his mind for over an hour and Mario is pretty sure that once they get back home, he won’t get a chance to ask without their parents finding out. 

“What’s gay?” Mario keeps his eyes on the ball he’s still kicking in front of him, but he can see Fabian turn his head and stare down at him at the edge of his vision.

“Don’t worry about that, Mario. Niko is just a jerk sometimes. He doesn’t really think you’re gay, he was just trying to tease you.” 

Mario frowns, kicking the ball a bit harder than he intends to and it rolls into the street, getting stuck between a car and the sidewalk. “Yes, but what _is_ it?”

Fabian sighs and Mario thinks he’s not going to get an answer, but then his brother goes to scoop up the ball and tosses it back to Mario. “It’s when a boy likes to kiss other boys. And do stuff with them, I don’t know. It’s weird” 

Mario’s stomach feels like he’s just downed one of the icecream shakes their mother makes them sometimes, all numb and cold. He isn’t really sure what Fabian meant by ‘doing stuff’, but he _does_ know what kissing is, obviously. And on the weekend before they left Memmingen, he and Leon sat in the treehouse Leon’s father had built them, exchanging their football jerseys and promising they would visit each other all the time. They passed the whole afternoon up there and when Leon’s mother called for them to come inside, Leon turned to Mario and gave him a quick kiss, right on the mouth. 

“So you don’t forget me,” he said with a grin, scrambling down the treehouse ladder and already yelling to ask his parents whether he and Mario could watch TV before they went to bed. 

Mario doesn’t know whether that counts, since Leon was the one to kiss Mario and not the other way around. But he’s pretty sure that the slight pull in his chest and the way his lips tingled afterwards, are almost as bad. Maybe Mario hasn’t kissed another boy but he liked it when Leon kissed him. He even idly wondered sometimes if Leon would do it again, once he comes to visit Mario’s new home. 

His eyes are burning all of a sudden and he blinks quickly, trying to keep them from tearing up. Fabian obviously thinks there is no way his little brother could be gay and Mario doesn’t want him to get suspicious by suddenly starting to cry. His brother and his stupid friends don’t know, he reminds himself. Maybe they won’t ever have to know. For the first time since he came to Dortmund, Mario is glad that Leon lives so far away now. 

He stops answering Leon’s letters after that day and when they travel back to Memmingen a few months later to visit Mario’s grandparents, he doesn’t go to visit him, spending the whole weekend building snowmen with Fabian and playing _Mensch ärgere dich nicht_ with his grandmother instead. He starts playing football at Dortmund’s youth division a little later and finally makes new friends, but he never quite forgets about Leon and that afternoon in the treehouse 

*

Mario is thirteen when he gets his first girlfriend. Well. The more accurate way of putting it is that she gets him. Hanna just walks up to him in class one day and places a note on his desk with a smile, while her friends hang back and giggle wildly, elbowing each other in the ribs. They are together for almost a year and Mario can honestly say he enjoys the whole time he spends with her. 

Hanna is nice and easy to talk to, not quite as silly as he thinks the other girls in their class to be, who never seem to talk about anything but movie stars and horses, from what Mario can tell. Hanna likes horses and movie stars, but more importantly she also likes football. Later on he’ll realize that this was probably the reason for her to pick Mario as her boyfriend in the first place, despite the fact that the other boys are taller and, if Mario is any judge, a lot more handsome than him. 

She comes to his practice sessions a lot and they watch games at their parents’ houses together, both wearing their Dortmund jerseys and yelling at the screen until Mario’s or her mother tell them to keep it down. She plays, too, and Mario comes to watch her on game days, if it doesn’t interfere with his own tournament schedule. Once they even go to the stadium with Hanna’s mother, awed by the size and noise of the _Süd_ around them. 

They kiss sometimes and even though it never sparks that same achy feeling in his chest Leon’s kiss in the treehouse did, Mario likes it. Hanna is pretty and she smells good, her lips always a bit sticky from the cherry flavored chapstick she favors. They hold hands and Mario likes that, too, especially when they’re out at the mall or just sitting in their school’s courtyard together. It makes the constant fluttering feeling of anxiety, that someone is going to figure out his secret by just looking at him, settle somewhat. Mario has a girlfriend, and boys with girlfriends can’t be gay. 

*

Hanna and Mario are broken up for nearly three months, when a boy on his team is outed. Ben is one of their defenders, a tall and broad-shouldered boy that smiles easily and doesn’t fit any of the characteristics Mario has come to associate with being gay. Mario isn’t sure how their teammates find out but one day everyone just starts avoiding Ben on the pitch, passing the ball by him and not including him in their game anymore. Their play is awful and afterwards a pissed off Mario gets pulled aside by one of the other boys. Frederik confides to him in hushed tones that he should avoid Ben from now on. 

“Why?” Mario asks, confused by the whole turn of events. 

Frederik pulls a face and looks around for their coaches before leaning in again. “He’s a faggot, Götze. Just stay away from him. We don’t need someone like that on our team.” 

Mario, whose heart is beating so fast he is absolutely sure Frederik will hear, just nods. 

The coaches find out the reason for their behavior eventually and they all get pulled in on a weekend to talk about homosexuality and fair play in football. The woman who leads the talk keeps repeating that there’s nothing wrong with being gay and uses words like ‘diversity’, promising them that a real team stands by its members, no matter who they are or where they come from. They all have to talk to their coaches one-on-one and are made to sign an anti-bullying contract. 

Mario knows even then that it won’t be any use. The other boys stop excluding Ben on the pitch, but in the breaks he’s always sitting by himself and when he tries to enter the showers everyone clears out immediately. They’ll only talk to him when the coaches are around to hear and even then it’s only the most necessary conversation, letting him know about a schedule change or asking him to hand over a cone while setting up for dribbling exercises. Ben sticks with it a lot longer than Mario expects him to, but after three months he’s suddenly not coming to training anymore and Frederik says he transferred schools as well, because his classmates found out. 

Mario is relieved. Ben’s presence has been a constant reminder to him, the fear he’s always aware of but manages to deny most days, brought to the surface every time he went to training. It made him paranoid, too, just waiting for one of the boys to point their finger at him one day and declare Mario a faggot, too. With Ben gone he can go back to pretending that he’s just like all the other boys, like there isn’t something odd inside of him that Mario can’t seem to expel or forget about, no matter how hard he tries. 

*

Mario is sixteen and he’s in love for the first time. Alex joint their team a few months into the season, after his parents had to unexpectedly move to Dortmund. Mario’s own misery at being misplaced from his home might lie several years in the past at that point, but they still bond over their similar experiences and Alex quickly becomes his best friend. It’s an unusual concept for Mario, who since his childhood has mostly been part of a bigger circle of friends, rather than confiding in one person. It’s a big enough novelty that for a long time Mario doesn’t even notice he’s developing a crush on Alex. 

Mario has noticed him of course, the same way he would have noticed any handsome boy on his team, and Alex, with his dark eyes and lazy smirk, is certainly that. But it’s not until Mario has to awkwardly excuse himself from his room, where they’ve been lying on the bed and talking together, just so Alex won’t notice his erection, that he realizes he’s in trouble. He can’t bring himself to stop hanging out with his new best friend though, not even with the memory of Ben fresh in his mind.

Alex is funny and interesting and a lot cooler than Mario could ever hope to be. He likes to tell Mario all about the many girls he’s been with back when he still lived in Essen and despite the fact that it makes Mario a bit sheepish about his sole relationship, he’s fascinated by Alex’ stories. They’re nearly inseparable, spending all of their time at each other’s houses and playing football together when they’re not. Alex declares they’re going to become stars in the Bundesliga together and   
Mario instantly agrees, even though part of him already knows that Alex’ skills probably won’t get him that far. 

It happens the day they’re trying to smoke the cigarettes Alex stole from his father’s pack, window open and incense burning just in case Alex’ mother comes to check on them later on. Mario is coughing violently as he tries to puff out the smoke and Alex is laughing at him, eyes lit up as he takes a pull of his own cigarette. 

“What the hell, Mar. You need to pull it into your lungs, it won’t work otherwise!”

“I’m _trying_ , okay? It just burns, is all,” Mario mutters, embarrassed by his feeble attempts at seeming as cool as Alex, who looks like a fucking Marlboro ad stretched out next to him. 

Alex sits up suddenly. “Here, I’ll show you.” He takes another deep pull of his cigarette and before Mario realizes what he’s about to do, Alex mouth is on his, slowly exhaling the smoke into his lungs. 

It doesn’t burn as much this time around, but even if it did, Mario is pretty sure he wouldn’t notice. Alex doesn’t pull away immediately; his lips lingering on Mario’s for long enough that there can be no doubt about what they’re doing. When they separate, Alex only grins at him, clearly pleased with himself. 

“My girlfriend showed me,” he explained. “Something about breath making the smoke easier on the lungs.” 

Mario’s head is still swimming, but something about that statement makes him focus back on Alex. “Does she- I mean. She knows that you…do this?” Mario asks, his hand waving around to try and encompass the words ‘kissing your best friend’ without actually saying them. 

“Nah,” Alex says easily. “She’s back in Essen and it doesn’t count with guys anyway. It’s not like I’m gay.” 

“I- yeah,” Mario manages. “Me neither.” 

“With guys it’s just easier sometimes. They’re not as uptight about actually doing stuff, you know?” Alex explains, not noticing that Mario is having a minor nervous breakdown next to him. “And once someone has his hand on your dick, there’s really no difference.” 

Mario tries to keep his voice level. “You’ve done that?” 

“Sure,” Alex says, entirely unconcerned. “Haven’t you?” 

When Mario just shakes his head he smirks a little, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray between them. “Huh. Go figure.” His hand creeps over to lie on Mario’s stomach and his voice is low when he speaks again. “Do you want to?” 

It’s all Mario can do not to jump up from the bed and run. For Alex this whole thing might just be a game, but Mario knows what’s at stake, if they get caught. He remembers Ben. He remembers what happened to him once everyone found out, even though the coaches tried to keep it from happening. He knows he shouldn’t risk it, not if he wants to play football professionally one day. But Mario is sixteen and he’s in love and so when Alex smiles and leans in again, he meets him halfway. 

*

They don’t get caught. It’s a miracle that they don’t, since they can barely keep their hands from each other when they’re together. They jerk each other off in their rooms at home and Alex presses Mario into one of the bathroom stalls back at the training center, rubbing up against him until they both come into their pants, breathing heavily and straining to listen whether anyone’s walked in one them. They sneak kisses when they’re on the couch in front of the TV together, keeping a wary eye on the door the whole time. It’s insanely stupid and it’s exhilarating and Mario has never been happier.

They continue like that for nearly three months, until Alex suggests for Mario to come over on a weekend his parents won’t be home. Mario has come to associate the grin his best friend is wearing with Alex’ penchant for sometimes dangerous ideas; but the words make his stomach fill with butterflies anyway.   
He tells his parents they have a group project for the team that they need to work on and conveniently fails to mention the fact, that they’ll be on their own the whole weekend. His parents won’t check up on him, Mario has his reputation as the ‘quiet one’ of their children to thank for that. By the time the weekend rolls around, he’s a bundle of nerves, even though he’s still not quite sure what Alex is planning. 

They spend Friday night watching shitty movies and making out everywhere in the house together, although Mario balks when Alex tries to pull him into his parents’ bedroom. But the thrill of being able to feel each other up anywhere fades rather quickly and by Saturday they’re back to playing FIFA in Alex’ room, swearing at each other and using dirty methods to try and eke out a win. It’s only when Alex halts the game and puts his controller down, that Mario remembers his friend has been up to something and the nervous pull from last night is back. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Alex says and Mario can tell he’s nervous, despite the air of nonchalance he surrounds himself with. “There’s this thing we could try.” 

His stomach is doing somersaults, but if Alex can pretend this isn’t a big deal, then so can Mario. He raises an eyebrow at Alex. “What kind of thing?” 

“We, uhm,” Alex starts and then coughs a little. To his amazement Mario can see the tiniest bit of a flush on his friend’s face. “We’d need lube for it.” 

It takes a few seconds for the words to register and then Mario is flushing as well. “Oh,” is all he manages to say, because _fuck_. Alex wants to-he can’t even finish the thought and he’s sure his face is bright red by now. “I don’t know, Alex.” 

“Come on,” his best friend says coaxingly and runs a hand up his leg. “You can do me later, yeah? I have the stuff right here.” He leans over to pull condoms and lube from underneath the bed and Mario is startled to realize that Alex must have planned this, brought them up here with the intention of convincing him to try it.  
Mario doesn’t know what to do. 

His hesitation must show on his face, because Alex leans over to gently kiss him, stroking his fingers along Mario’s face. “C’mon,” he whispers. “For me?”   
It’s the right thing to say. Mario doesn’t know how to deny his friend this, not when he would do nearly anything to make Alex happy. He forces his fear back down and tries to relax as they both shed their clothes quickly, Alex pushing his legs apart and squeezing some of the lube onto his fingers. Right before he can actually do something though, Mario grabs onto his wrist.

“Wait,” he says and knows he sounds scared, can’t really help it. “Have you done this before?” 

“Once with my girlfriend,” Alex says with a nod. “It’s not bad, it doesn’t even hurt that much after a while. C’mon,” he grins, lightly slapping Mario’s thigh. “Don’t be a chicken. I promised I’d let you do me, too, didn’t I?” 

Mario swallows hard against the panic in his throat. “Okay,” he says and knows it sounds forced. “Just…be careful?”

“Always am,” Alex replies and slides a finger inside Mario, before he can say anything else. 

Mario gasps and digs his fingers into the sheets to try and keep himself pulled together. It feels…odd. It doesn’t hurt really, there’s just pressure he isn’t used to and the weird sensation of having someone else inside of him. Strangely enough it’s not unpleasant and when Alex pushes a second finger into him, Mario actually has to swallow back a strangled noise. There’s a definite burn now, the feeling of being stretched too quickly, but to his amazement Mario finds he likes it, the promise of something sharper and more pronounced lurking beneath the simmering arousal running up his spine. 

Alex doesn’t waste a lot of time on his fingers and Mario would probably protest when he slides the condom on after only a few minutes, but he’s still trying to get ahold of that spark he’d felt earlier. He nearly bites through his bottom lip when Alex pushes inside, pain searing through him and making him cry out. 

“Sorry,” Alex mutters breathlessly, already moving his hips. “Don’t worry, this won’t take that long. Trust me, you’ll like it once you get your turn.” 

Mario can’t answer him. Beyond the superficial pain there’s something else, the feeling of being stretched beyond his limits, being taken apart and pulled back in by the same spark he’d felt earlier. It’s overwhelming and irresistible at the same time; his whole body alight with the sensation. Alex’ thrusts into him hurt, but he can’t help meeting them with his own hips, drawing a surprised grunt from his friend. Mario faintly notices that he’s hard again, his cock straining against his stomach. 

He can hear Alex is getting close and wants to reach down and finish himself, too, when one of the thrusts hits a spot that makes him see stars. Gasping at the sensation, Mario clutches at Alex’ shoulders to keep him from moving. It’s too much all at once, pain and pleasure mingling together into one heady stream that threatens to pull him under entirely. But either Alex doesn’t get what Mario is trying to tell him, or he is too caught up in his own pleasure to notice, because he thrusts in hard again. When he brushes against that spot, Mario’s orgasm is pulled from him like a tidal wave, leaving him shaking and helpless in its wake. 

It takes him a minute to get his bearings enough to realize Alex has finished as well, pulling out of Mario almost immediately. The gaze he fixes him with is disbelieving. “Dude,” Alex says and there’s something weird in his voice that makes Mario want to pull up the sheets to cover himself. “You could have said.” 

Mario doesn’t know whether he’s still out of it, or if Alex is just not making sense. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re into this stuff,” Alex says, almost accusingly. “You should have told me. I mean, it’s cool, whatever. It’s just, I’m not gay. I thought you knew that.” 

Mario feels like someone has tightened a rope around his chest. “I _do_ know that. Neither am I.” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Alex scoffs. “I’ll admit you had me going there with your deer-in-the-headlights-number, but seriously? I never even knew that could happen to a guy,” he says, waving at Mario. “I didn’t even have to touch you.” 

The shame hits Mario so hard and quickly it takes his breath away for a second, burning a hollow in his chest as he tries in vain to keep his eyes from tearing up. He’s up and pulling on his clothes in a second, not wanting to see the expression on his best friend’s face any more than he wants to be in the same room with him. His whole body hurts and the thought of the bicycle ride home is enough to make him nauseous, but he doesn’t give Alex the satisfaction of seeing him cry, as he flees from the room and stumbles down the stairs. It’s the last time he visits Alex’ house. 

*

Mario spends the next few weeks in misery, the severity of his heartbreak being fuelled by the constant anxiety that Alex might talk to someone about what happened. It’s enough to make him lose weight and distract him at football practice so much that the coaches start yelling at him for not concentrating. His grades don’t slip, mostly because school is one of the few places he feels safe at, since Alex doesn’t go to his Gymnasium, but the Realschule almost twenty minutes away. 

As time passes his parents stop asking if Alex is going to come over that day and Mario is slowly starting to feel comfortable again. He knows of course that by telling on Mario, Alex would have to implicate himself as well, but it’s not just that. The humiliation at Alex’ words and the embarrassment at his own reaction still make him cringe whenever he thinks about it. Over the years Mario has carefully built his walls against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him sometimes, and it only took a few minutes and his body’s own traitorous reaction to crumble them. It’s bad enough to want to fuck guys in the first place, but actually enjoying to get fucked? Mario knows what his teammates would think about that, after all Alex nearly put it into words. 

He gets a lot more careful from then on, swearing to himself he won’t be stupid or desperate enough to get put into that kind of position again. He concentrates on football and actually makes the cut for the Senior division, which places him in another team and reduces the time he needs to spend in Alex’ presence to nearly zero. To both of their surprise, he starts dating Hanna again in his final year of school and they make a pact to lose their virginity together after finishing final exams. Mario figures since he’s never been with a girl, it’s not technically lying.

Hanna already has her acceptance letter for Freiburg University and Mario is called for Dortmund’s Bundesliga team for the next season, so both of them know it isn’t going to last much longer. Despite that, Hanna and he actually make their yearbook as ‘best couple’ and no one finds that more hilarious than Mario. They go to the Abitur ball together and Mario’s mother gushes as she takes pictures of them in front of the fireplace, Mario in a suit and Hanna looking admittedly stunning in her gown. 

They run into Alex at the ball, who is accompanying one of Mario’s classmates. Mario tries to ignore him while they put their ballroom dance lessons to good use and spin together, Hanna breathless and laughing and absolutely beautiful. It’s a great party and everyone seems almost drunk on nostalgia and the prospect of leaving behind their lives soon, but all Mario can think about is the look Alex gives him as he watches him dance with Hanna; knowing and almost pitying. 

It’s their last night together, which they’ve agreed upon before. Hanna is going to leave soon and she wants their relationship to go out with a bang, which Mario can’t really argue with. He kisses her goodbye after dropping her off at home and she cries a little before rallying and giving him a smile, taking his face into her hands.

“You were an excellent boyfriend, Mario Götze,” she says and shakes her head when he snorts. “You really were. I’m sorry we have to break up. But I’m guessing I’ll see you on the TV in a couple of months.” 

Hanna notices the expression on his face and smiles a little. “You’ll be amazing. I know it, Mario. I wish you would believe in yourself a little more sometimes.”

He grins at her. “I have you for that.” 

“Not anymore,” she retorts. “So you’ll have to step up to the plate.”

Mario just nods and Hanna smiles again, moving in to give him a final hug. “Friends?” she asks softly and he squeezes her hard in response. “Of course.”

They part and he watches her walk up to her front door, turning around one last time before slipping inside. “Eight week tops until they let you start in a game,” she calls. “Mark my words. Anything after that and they don’t deserve you anyway.” 

When Kloppo tells him a few months later that he’ll make his debut on the next Saturday, Mario pauses to actually shoot of a quick text message to Hanna, before rushing home to tell his family. 

_You were right._

_Always am. Congratulations, Mario. I’ll see you in the stadium <3 _

*

His new life is moving so fast that Mario doesn’t really have time to process it properly. He still lives with his parents, even though they’ve moved him into his own little apartment right under the roof, but he’s training with the BVB team every day now, while all of his friends have been left behind in the Junior League. He’s the only one who made the cut and the youngest on the team and everyone treats him like their little brother. He actually gets to train in the stadium now and when they enter the arena during a game for the first time, the sight of the Süd from the pitch gives him goose bumps. It’s overwhelming and frightening and Mario loves every second of it.

It’s enough to distract him from his predicament for a while, everything in his life taking a backseat to football for now. He’ll be able to get away with it for a while, but Mario knows that he will have to get a girlfriend again eventually, if he wants to avoid people talking. He also knows that he won’t make it through his entire football career without being able to fulfill some of his actual needs, as dangerous as that’s going to be. Mario’s new status as a professional football player complicates things.

People _know_ him now, Dortmund isn’t that big of a city and football is everything to its citizens. Mario gets recognized when he goes out to buy clothes or just on a trip to the movies with his friends. It’s not like he’s famous or anything, he hasn’t even started in more than a few games yet, but it makes him feel watched, like at any moment someone could point out that there’s something not quite right with that Götze boy. 

Mario doesn’t want anyone to know, but he also can’t keep pretending like this. He’s afraid of what he’ll do once he gets desperate enough, even with the memory of what happened with Alex at the back of his mind. That leaves anonymous hook-ups as his only option and Mario balks at the idea at first. He’s never liked clubbing, and the thought of having sex with a stranger somewhere, makes him uneasy. But after a few weeks of research, he picks a location that’s known for its gay scene and seems pretty safe to him. It takes him a long time to actually work up the courage and go there one night, telling his parents he’s hanging out with his friends. He nearly turns around five times on the way there, hands clammy with sweat where they grip the steering wheel of his brand-new car. 

The club is easy to find and surprisingly unobtrusive, just an open front door with a stylized sign above the door. There’s a shivering girl in a flimsy top out front, smoking a cigarette and hugging herself in a fruitless attempt to keep warm. She watches Mario as he approaches hesitantly and the knowing glint in her eyes almost makes him turn around on his heels and pretend he never meant to come here in the first place. 

All of a sudden she smiles though, flicking away the cigarette and raising a pierced eyebrow. “First time?” 

Mario is afraid his voice might shake if he tries to talk and just nods. Her expression turns sympathetic and she gives him another smile. “I’m Sandra. Come on. I’ll show you around. They’ll eat you alive otherwise.” 

She turns to go back inside and Mario follows her, relieved to see that the club is almost completely dark, music thumping at a volume that makes it nearly impossible to actually hold a conversation. The dance floor is packed and most of the walls and corners seem to be taken up by couples making out. Sandra takes him to the bar and introduces him to the bartender, who looks Mario up and down and then gives Sandra a significant look. “Since when do you take on jailbait?” 

“Be nice,” she laughs. “He’s a first-timer. Just get him something without any alcohol in it.” 

They weave their way through to a table and Mario tries and fails not to spill half his drink over his hand. He licks the sticky liquid off absentmindedly, still taking in his surroundings. It’s better than he expected, but he doesn’t quite know where to go from here. “How do you- I mean, how would I- tell someone, I mean. That I want to…” he trails of, glancing back at Sandra who looks like she’s trying hard not to laugh. 

“Uhm, I don’t think you’ll have any problems there, darling,” she says, tilting her head a little to indicate the dance floor next to their table. 

When Mario turns his head, he notices that there are at least three guys who seem to be taking a keen interest in the way Mario is still cleaning off his fingers. Flushing with embarrassment, he drops his hand and across the table, Sandra actually laughs out loud. “Yeah,” she says, leaning over to pat him on his cheek.   
“You’ll do just fine.” 

She doesn’t actually let him go off to hook up with anyone that night, instead lecturing him on protection during sex and the rules for safe hook-ups, as well as something she calls LGBT etiquette, which has apparently something to do with not outing anyone outside of the environment of the club. Mario’s head is swimming by the end of the night, but he doesn’t stop asking Sandra questions until the bouncer actually throws them out. 

*

The next time he returns, Mario finds out just how right Sandra was when she told him he wouldn’t have any problems with picking up guys. It’s flattering at first and the complete disregard his hook-ups seem to have for who Mario actually is, or what he does outside the club, is more than a little reassuring. He sticks to hand- and blowjobs at first, remembering Sandra’s warnings about the dangers of contracting an STID, if you weren’t careful about protection during every single encounter. But despite the fact that Alex’ words are still burned into his head, Mario wants to feel that thing again, the sensation of someone else inside of him, pulling everything apart and slotting it into place at the same time. 

He picks an older guy, who probably has done this a couple of times and it’s good, in fact it’s excellent. The guy barely preps him, but Mario doesn’t even mind, not when the burn and stretch as he pushes inside of Mario, nearly makes him come right then and there. From then on he almost always lets the men he picks up fuck him, resolutely ignoring the knowing looks they give him afterwards. 

Mario isn’t stupid; he knows what kind of men he attracts. The guys he picks are mostly straight and experimenting, wanting to get that little bit of extra kick by fucking someone who looks like they could still be in high-school. But not even the shame he feels once they realize they don’t even need to touch him, that he’s so desperate to get fucked he’ll come long before they’re done with him, is enough to get him to stop. 

Football is everything to Mario and these trips to the club help keep the secret that would ruin his dream in a second, no matter how talented he is or how much promise he shows. He keeps them to a bare minimum, not going there more than once or twice a month and only ever when he’s sure no one will ask about his whereabouts. In a few years, he might ask his manager to find a girlfriend for him, but as of now, no one is asking any questions yet. He’s doing the right thing, the _smart_ thing. The incident with Alex nearly ruined him and Mario swore to himself back then, that he would never be that stupid again, won’t ever let his heart get the better of him. 

Of course, three weeks later he meets Marco and the rest, as they say, is history. 

*

They meet on the National Team, which Mario finds hilarious, given the fact that they were both raised in the Dortmund Youth Division. Sometimes he wonders whether they’d ever run into each other on the training grounds without noticing and the thought stings a little, all that time between them lost, just because Marco is three years older than him. Their connection is instant and more than a little frightening to Mario in its intensity. He changed schools twice and changed teams even more often, rising through the ranks quicker than most of his peers. None of that had exactly been conductive to keeping close friendships. 

But now there’s Marco, whose eyes find Mario’s instantly when he enters a room; Marco, who spends a whole tactical session giggling with Mario in the back until a pissed off Löw nearly throws them out of the room; Marco, who always quickly steps to his side when they pair off during training and glares at André when he tries to get there first. The others make jokes about love at first sight and Marco doesn’t even give in to their teasing, just slings an arm around Mario’s shoulders and gives him that crooked half-smile Mario is already unreasonably fond of. 

“Don’t mind them. They’re just jealous of our awesome friendship prowess.”

“Clearly,” Phillip says drily and Marco flips him off lazily with one hand, the other still wrapped around Mario.

During that first stint at the National Team they never spend more than ten minutes apart, talking till late in the night, even though the coaches glare at them for every single yawn during training the next day. They never seem to get tired of each other’s company and by the end of the week Mario feels like he knows Marco better than most of his friends back home. The thought of not seeing him every day is actually painful, which is insane on so many levels Mario can’t even begin to count them. 

Marco is moody and withdrawn on their last day, snapping at André, who makes a pointed remark about long distance relationships. He hugs Mario tightly when they say their goodbyes and Mario’s phone chimes only two minutes after the van him, Mats and Ilkay are being taken back to Dortmund in, leaves. 

_come back. andré trying 2 convince me that star wars ep vi > ep v rn. can’t abide this much ignorance >:-( _

Mario grins stupidly at his phone, typing out his reply as fast as he can. 

_he’s clearly insane. sw marathon when you come to dortmund next time y/y?_

His phone vibrates only seconds later. 

_ur on._

Mario spends the whole drive back to Dortmund texting back and forth with Marco, ignoring Ilkay and Mats, who keep making fun of him until they get bored and start a game that seems to involve counting differently colored cars. By the time he gets dropped off at his parents’ house, his phone is almost out of battery, but Mario has a grin on his face that doesn’t fade until he falls asleep a few hours later, his charging phone safely next to him on the pillow. 

*

Mario will not admit this to anyone, mainly because Mats and Kevin would actually _never_ stop making fun of him, but being Marco’s best friend _is_ a little bit like being in a long distance relationship. They’re both extremely invested in their respective careers and since Dortmund and Mönchengladbach are separated by nearly a hundred kilometers, that makes it hard to simply drop by each other’s place on a whim. Through the week they have training and the weekends are reserved for game days, which leave them with little to work with. 

The few occasions Marco makes it to Dortmund during the active season to see his family, and the National Team quickly become the only time they actually get to see each other. Otherwise it’s phone calls and Instagram pics and an abundance of text messages wherever they go. It gets to a point where Mario can actually gauge Marco’s mood by the single emoticon he sends instead of a message. It’s not the same as being able to see each other and sometimes it’s downright exhausting, but Mario would put up with a lot more to be able to stay connected to Marco. And there are some upsides to not seeing Marco all the time, even if Mario is reluctant to acknowledge them. For one, it allows him to ignore the fact that he’s rapidly falling in love with his best friend.

His attraction to Marco isn’t all that surprising, he’s had crushes on some of his more attractive friends before and Marco, with his stupid half-smirk and the ridiculous hair he won’t leave alone for more than a minute, is pretty much exactly Mario’s type. But it’s more than a crush and it doesn’t do much good to deny it at this point. Marco is the first thing on his mind when he gets up and most of the time the last person he talks to before falling asleep, if only via text message. Mario catches himself randomly staring off into space and thinking about the way Marco’s voice gets all hoarse when he’s just woken up, or how his tattoos run up and disappear under the sleeve of his jersey. It even happens once during one of Kloppo’s motivational talks and it’s mortifying, even if he’s the lone witness to his own ridiculous behavior. 

Mario is falling for his best friend and he knows there’s no one there to catch him, once he gets to the ground. 

*

Marco’s transfer to Dortmund gets finalized on a Tuesday and the message he sends to Mario contains only exclamation marks. Mario helps him move into his new apartment and they have a party for the whole team on Marco’s first official weekend in Dortmund, which ends with Kevin drunk and nearly peeing onto Marco’s brand new roof terrace. 

The other guys instantly welcome Marco and he takes to his new old club like a duck to water, integrating into their team as if he’s been playing with them for years. His connection with Mario on the pitch is obvious and the first game they play leaves Mario glowing with happiness, the electric feeling of having Marco there with him on the pitch lingering hours after the final whistle blow rings through the Signal-Iduna-Park. 

They see each other every day now and it makes things infinitely better and worse at the same time. There’s never a moment when Mario isn’t painfully aware that he’s hopelessly in love with his best friend, but when he’s with Marco that almost doesn’t seem to matter. If keeping his mouth shut is what it takes to keep Marco, then Mario will goddamn well sew his lips together before he utters a word on the matter. It means he can’t tell Marco about his sexuality, even though for the first time in his life Mario actually _wants_ someone to know. Keeping secrets from Marco seems wrong, no matter how quickly he’d be able to put together that Mario’s feelings for him aren’t exactly platonic, if he knew. 

*

Things fall apart on Robert’s birthday and in retrospect Mario curses himself for not being more careful. But Marco broke up with Caro two months before and since then he’s been spending almost every night with Mario, who tries to be a supportive friend instead of secretly gleeful about the whole thing. He hates seeing Marco unhappy, but Mario can’t help but feel glad that he won’t have to see his best friend kiss someone else for a while now. 

In any case, since Mario’s free time has been completely taken up by being with Marco, he hasn’t found the opportunity to actually go out and hook up with anyone for nearly three months. So when Mats, who has known about Mario’s secret for a while now (and didn’t that conversation terrify the living shit out of him when it happened), offers to cover for him on Lewy’s birthday, Mario gladly takes the opportunity. 

Only things go horribly, horrifyingly wrong and Marco actually catches him with his hook-up and that’s that, really. Mario’s secret is out in the open and that makes two people on his team, who found out about him in the past few months now. At the rate he’s going, Mario should just ask Kloppo to write it up on the board at their next tactical session. 

Mario would like to think he isn’t at fault for what happens next, but he knows that if anyone should have put a stop to it, it’s him. Marco is drunk when he first kisses him and whatever he thinks he wants from Mario is likely a by-product of his confusion about Mario’s revelation and a residual feeling of rejection from his break-up. Mario has been doing this for a long time and he knows that being willing to kiss or even fuck another guy, doesn’t tell you shit about someone’s sexuality. 

He’s always been a draw for straight boys, who are trying to experiment, it’s one of the reasons he’s kept his secret as long as he has; they’re much less likely to talk afterwards. Marco is straight, and his best friend and Mario has been through this before and should really know better. So when Marco asks him for something Mario knows will only end up breaking his heart in the long run, he ought to be the one to walk away. 

Marco is not a second Alex, could never be Alex, he actually cares about Mario for one, which Mario now realizes Alex never did. But he’ll still end up breaking Mario’s heart, if only because he doesn’t have it in him to love Mario the way he loves Marco. So Mario knows he should say no, should end things before their friendship gets irreparably damaged and get on with his life. 

But Mario is in love and when Marco looks at him and says _please_ in a way that makes his chest ache, any reason Mario has been trying to hold onto, simply melts away. He gets up on his toes to meet Marco’s kiss and tries hard not to think about how this is all going to blow up in his face eventually. 

*

Maybe the scariest thing is how little changes at first. They train together every day and since Mario puts an embargo on any contact that could in any way be construed as above friendship-level, that’s pretty much par for the course. Of course Marco tries to get away with things like coming up behind him and wrapping Mario in his arms like he’s his own personal teddy bear, but no one bats an eye at that, not even Mats. Mario and Marco had a reputation for being clingy with each other and it grants them a certain leeway Marco takes advantage of. 

They hang out with the other guys sometimes, but mostly it’s just the two of them, watching movies or playing videogames until Mario decrees he’s too hungry to go on beating Marco at playing FIFA and they either call for take-out or Marco uses the remaining groceries to pull something together in his kitchen, ordering Mario to stay away from the appliances, because apparently he ‘destroys everything’. Which, really, is a tad unfair, considering Mario never actually had to cook for himself a day in his life; and could therefore not really be expected to know that making pancakes requires you to actually melt some butter in the pan first, before pouring in the batter. 

The point is, for the most part their routines stay the same, they just include a lot more physical affection all of a sudden. Mario realizes quickly how much Marco likes to touch him, and it throws him a little at first. For the past few years his sexual encounters were mostly that – sexual. There was little room for cuddling with someone you’d met only five minutes before and who was shoving you up against some bathroom wall to get off as quickly as possible. Marco’s affection and his apparent desire to keep at least one part of their bodies touching at any given time, is new and unsettling. 

Mario tries to hide how much he likes it at first, how every single time Marco rests his hand on Mario’s thigh when they’re in the car or absent-mindedly calls him ‘Sunny’, causes his spine to tingle. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing and Mario needs to remind himself constantly, that even though he now actually gets to do most of the things he imagined himself doing with Marco all this time, they’re not a couple. 

They’re best friends who sleep together, but that’s easy to forget when Marco wraps himself around Mario at any given opportunity, especially when it’s just the two of them. Marco’s flat has become their safe haven of a sort and Mario is scared by how much he’s already looking forward to letting the front door fall shut behind them each day, finally able to get their hands on each other. 

All of that makes it pretty difficult to try and stay level-headed and remember that Marco isn’t actually his boyfriend, no matter how much Mario wants him to be. Not even when he does stuff like drag Mario to his couch after training and force him to actually sit through Star Wars I, II and III, despite Mario’s vehement protests that they’re a blemish onto the whole franchise. Marco just laughs at Mario’s irritated muttering throughout the movie and slips a hand under his shirt after the first half, running his fingers over Mario’s stomach and chest teasingly, until he’s hard and squirming against Marco. 

“Fuck, Marco, can you just-“ Mario breaks off with a frustrated groan, trying to free one of his hands from where Marco has them pinned between the two of them. 

“What’s the matter?” Marco’s voice carries all the fake innocence he’s capable of, which is not a lot. 

Mario scowls. Some days he doesn’t know why he picked Marco of all people to fall in love with. His best friend can be one of the most obnoxious people on the planet and after only three weeks of sleeping together, Marco has already developed a habit of making Mario beg for his touch, which is just. No. He steels himself. 

“Nothing,” Mario says, resolutely ignoring the erection straining painfully against his jeans. He won’t give Marco the satisfaction this time. 

“Hm,” Marco hums and moves the hand on Mario’s belly lower to casually undo the buttons of his jeans, slipping his fingers inside to cup him easily. “You sure about that?” 

Mario bites down hard on his own tongue, counting in his head to try and keep from noticing how Marco’s hand is pushing aside his briefs to loosely circle Mario’s cock with his fingers. “Positive.” 

“If you say so,” Marco says pleasantly and shifts them a little so he can keep watching the movie, chin tucked over Mario’s shoulder. He doesn’t move the hand he has on Mario, warm palm resting against the sensitive skin of his cock and fuck, Mario is going to _murder_ him. He exhales noisily through his nose and closes his eyes, because even though Marco is behind him, Mario knows his self-satisfied smirk will be visible in his peripheral vision in a few seconds and then Mario will actually _have_ to kill him, just to preserve his dignity. 

“Please,” he grinds out and before he can actually say anything else, Marco’s fingers close around him and jerk him off with long, lazy pulls that make Mario’s toes curl. It doesn’t take more than two minutes and when Mario comes, his vision actually whites out and he slumps back into the curve of Marco’s body, who noses against his cheek until Mario turns his head to look at him. On the screen Darth Maul is casting off his cloak and everyone is drawing their light sabers and how is this Mario’s _life_. 

“I hate you,” he complains and Marco grins, leaning in to kiss him. “I know.” 

Mario kisses him back lazily, his afterglow making him pliable and very at peace with the situation, even with that abomination of a movie playing in the background. He can feel Marco’s hardness against the curve of his ass and deliberately shifts his weight a little, suppressing a smirk when Marco groans against his mouth. It’s unkind, but Marco deserves it for being such a smug bastard all the time, so Mario moves his hips again and Marco breaks away from the kiss with a gasp, pushing his face into the crook of Mario’s neck. “God, Sunny, you’re- I want to fuck you. Can I?” 

Mario freezes. It’s an instinctual reaction and noticeable enough that Marco draws back immediately, peering at him with concern. Mario curses himself silently; trying to smooth his expression into something that won’t give away immediately how much Marco’s request caught him off-guard. Their encounters so far consisted entirely of hand- and blowjobs and until now Marco gave Mario no indication that he wanted more than that, which is no surprise really. A lot of the straight guys Mario hooked up with shied away from anything relating to anal, it was a common hang-up. 

“We don’t have to,” Marco says, snapping Mario out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” 

“It’s fine,” Mario says and God, at that moment he really wishes Marco knew him a little less well, because he can tell his best friend isn’t buying his nonchalance. 

“Really,” he assures Marco, who raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. “We can do that.” 

Marco looks like he wants to say something and Mario really can’t deal with any of his questions or reassurances right now, so he twists around to straddle him and slips one hand into his sweatpants, effectively shutting him up. It works like a charm, as Marco’s fall shut, a sigh falling from his lips as Mario strokes him easily. 

Meanwhile Mario’s thoughts are racing, heartbeat wild and out of control. The thing is, he wants Marco to fuck him. It’s pretty much his number one fantasy, has been since he first noticed his attraction to Marco, which was roughly three hours after meeting him for the first time. The thought of Marco that close to him, _inside_ of him, is enough to make Mario’s brain go haywire, which is precisely why he avoids thinking about it most of the time. Mario still remembers Alex’ reaction, the surprise and subsequent knowing looks at his eagerness for it, the burning shame afterwards. The possibility of that happening with Marco makes Mario feel physically ill, but it doesn’t make him want it any less. 

Mario swallows against the nervousness rising in his throat and pushes his forehead against Marco’s. “Do you have something?” 

Marco blinks at him in confusion and Mario is about to repeat the question, when his gaze suddenly clears, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh! I- yeah, I think there’s stuff in my bathroom.” He makes a move as if to get up and Mario puts a hand on his chest, slipping out of his lap. “I’ll get it. Wait here.” 

Marco’s bathroom is huge and Mario has to dig through several drawers until he spots the condoms and lube, shoved into one of the bottom shelves. Tossing them onto the counter, Mario grips the edges of the sink, surveying himself in the mirror. His face is flushed, but considering what they’re about to do, that’s no huge surprise. He briefly wonders whether he should take the time to prep himself here, but decides against it, instead cleaning himself up from where Marco made him come into his briefs earlier. Mario tosses them into the corner and wraps a towel around his waist instead. The fabric is rough against his bare skin and Mario bites his lip, taking a deep breath before grabbing the lube and condoms from the counter and heading back into the living room. 

Marco turns his head as Mario circles around the couch, his gaze dragging over Mario’s half unclad state and catching on his hands. “Found everything?” 

Humming in affirmation, Mario slides back into Marco’s lap, who immediately draws him close. His breath is warm on Mario’s cheek as he murmurs “Here?” and Mario can’t help but arch into the caress, tilting his head to give Marco better access to the underside of his jaw. 

“You were the one that wanted to watch a movie,” he counters breathlessly, not mentioning the fact that the bedroom is the last place he wants to do this. It would be too close to the first time he’s let someone fuck him and Mario doesn’t think he can deal with the flashbacks. Since Alex, Mario has never actually had sex in a bed, the last few weeks with Marco being the exception. Better to leave that stone unturned for now, just to be safe. And anyway, he _likes_ this, being so close to Marco, actually feeling his whole body against him. 

Marco is already undoing the towel around his waist and Mario pulls away from him to pick up the lube from where he tossed it onto the couch. He’s about to squeeze some onto his fingers, when Marco interrupts him, putting a hand on his wrist. “Can I?”

It’s the second time today that Marco catches him off his guard and Mario stares at him for a moment too long, before handing over the lube. He can’t remember the last time someone did the prepping for him; he usually does it before he even goes to the club, far more convenient than fumbling about with the stuff in a dimly lit bathroom stall. His hands feel awkward without something to do, so Mario slides them to the back of Marco’s neck, holding onto him maybe a bit too tightly, betraying his nervousness. 

If Marco notices, he mercifully doesn’t say anything, instead kissing Mario briefly. “Tell me if it hurts,” Marco breathes against Mario’s lips, reaching around to slip one careful finger into him.

Mario is familiar with the sensation and Marco used enough lube to ease the first feeling of invasion considerably, but his breath still hitches, arms tightening around Marco’s shoulders. Because this is it. What’s been his jerk off material for longer than he cares to admit, is actually about to happen and it’s enough to make Mario lose his head a little. He can already feel himself growing hard again, his cock twitching as Marco eases a second finger into him. Marco’s fingers are longer than Mario’s and they brush up against a spot inside him that makes him arch his back, unsure whether to escape or move into the touch. 

“Easy, Sunny,” Marco murmurs, nuzzling into Mario’s cheek. “Is this ok?” He crooks his fingers a little and all of a sudden Mario feels the sharp hook of arousal slide into his belly and yank him along, ripping a gasp from his lips. 

“ _Fuck_ , Marco- you-“ Mario can’t finish the sentence as Marco starts fucking him with his fingers, brushing against that spot with every push inside. He clings to Marco’s shoulders instead, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, even as he’s falling apart under his best friend’s hands. 

When Marco pulls his fingers out, Mario wants to cry with relief, grabbing a condom from where the box has nearly disappeared between the cushions and pushing it at Marco. He feels _empty_ without Marco’s fingers inside him and his own fingers tremble when he pulls Marco’s cock from his briefs, hard and flushed and fucking perfect. Mario has never wanted anything as much as he wants Marco in that moment and his voice cracks with barely concealed need when he speaks. “C’mon, do it, I need you to, Marco, please-“ 

“Shhh, calm down, Sunny. You’re not ready yet,” Marco mutters and suddenly three of his fingers are back inside of Mario, pushing more lube into him as he scissors them gently. 

“I _am_ , fuck, I need-“ Mario whimpers as Marco hits his prostate again, fingers digging into Marco’s shoulders until his knuckles turn white. Marco just hums and presses a kiss to Mario’s cheek, his lips almost cool against the burning skin there. His fingers crook inside Mario again and it sends a jolt up his spine that nearly makes him come and that’s _it_ , he needs Marco, needs him now. 

“Marco please, just fuck me already, I want-“ 

“Sunny, you’re not-“ 

“I’m ready, I was ready five minutes ago,” Mario babbles. “I’ve done this before, I’m fine, just _please_ , Marco.” 

Marco doesn’t look entirely convinced so Mario kisses him, sliding his tongue into his mouth until Marco can’t help but kiss him back, looking a bit dazed once Mario breaks away, both of them breathing harshly. 

“I’m ready,” Mario repeats softly and Marco nods, swallowing hard as he moves to slip on the condom. Mario actually has to move back to give him room, awkwardly raising himself to his knees and using Marco’s shoulders for support.

He can hear the tiny hitch in Marco’s breath when he slides on the condom and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself. When Marco slides his hands around his thighs to pull him in, fingers brushing the swell of his ass, Mario’s thoughts short-circuit, because _this is it_. It takes them a few moments to get in the right position, Marco using one hand to steady his cock as Mario lifts up a little until he feels Marco brushing against him. For one perfect second everything seems to shrink down to that feeling, the anticipation pulling every muscle in Mario’s body tight like coiled wire. Then Marco is pushing into him and _God_ , it’s fucking perfect, even better than Mario imagined. 

Marco prepared him thoroughly and the condom is lubricated as well, but it still burns a little and it’s just right, the initial stretch pushing the air from Mario’s lungs and setting every nerve-ending on fire. Their position means that Marco can’t really go that slowly, gravity doing its part as Mario slides down on his cock until Marco is buried in him all the way, both of them groaning at the feeling. Marco runs his palms down Mario’s sides, thumbs stroking along his hipbones and Mario tips his head forward until their foreheads rest together. 

“Okay?” Marco whispers to him and his voice is strained. 

Mario doesn’t think he can speak right now, he just nods slightly. And when Marco takes a firmer hold of his hips and starts fucking up into him, Mario knows he won’t last long, it’s too much all at once. Marco is _inside_ of him, around him, kissing him and it’s better, so much better than Mario ever imagined. It’s all he can do to meet Marco’s thrusts with his hips, riding out the wave of arousal that lifts him towards the shore at rapid speed. Marco’s next push inside scrapes his prostate and Mario swears, fisting his hands into the back of the damn shirt Marco is still wearing, nearly tearing the fabric. 

Marco stills at that and then shifts them a bit, hands sliding down to grip Mario’s ass. Mario only has a second to wonder what he’s doing and then Marco is pushing inside again, fucking him with slow, deep thrusts that nail that spot every fucking time. Mario can hear himself whimpering and really wishes he could prevent himself from making that noise, because it’s pathetic and entirely too revealing, but Marco is fucking him faster now, pushing his face against Mario’s neck and mouthing at the skin there. 

“You going to come for me, Sunny?” Marco rasps into his ear and Mario’s whole body seizes up as his orgasm is pulled from him almost violently. 

Marco gasps in surprise, but fucks him through it with tiny sharp thrusts, muttering praise and filth against his skin all the while. He sounds as dazed as Mario feels, voice almost breaking. “Fuck, Sunny, you’re perfect, you- _God_ , you feel so-“

Mario whines, all of it too much now, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him tremble in Marco’s arms, the stretch of Marco inside him perfect and too much all at once. Marco mutters soothing nonsense into his ear, but he doesn’t stop fucking him, burying himself in Mario again and again. And even though Mario’s limbs feel like taffy, he starts pushing down his hips again to meet him, drawing a groan and curse from Marco. He pushes into Mario twice more before he comes, all the way inside and holding onto Mario desperately, like he could maybe escape if he doesn’t. 

If Mario had his way he would stay like this all night, wrapped up in Marco’s arms and holding on just as tightly, his nose pressed into Marco’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, familiar and comforting. But his thighs are starting to protest and now that the endorphin rush from his orgasm has slightly let up, the ache he’s deeply familiar with is starting to radiate from his ass to his lower back, making Mario wince. He carefully eases off Marco, who steadies his hips with both hands and strokes his sides comfortingly, when Mario hisses as Marco slips out of him. 

“You okay?” Marco is watching him carefully and Mario has to swallow, avoiding his gaze. Marco hasn’t shown any sign that Mario’s reaction put him off, but he’s been burned too often not to be weary at his point. He’s a lot wiser now than he was at sixteen and in theory Mario _knows_ there’s nothing wrong with liking to be fucked, he _does_. But no matter what his head tells him, the initial feeling of humiliation is always there, like he’s revealed too much of himself and can’t take it back, now that it’s out in the open.

“Hey.” Marco’s voice is gentle; as if he’s caught on to Mario’s feeling of vulnerability. He likely has, Marco knows him way too well. Mario meets his eyes reluctantly and Marco gives him that familiar half-smirk, his gaze soft and impossibly fond. 

“C’mere,” Marco says and draws him in again, folding Mario into his arms easily and dropping a kiss onto his brow. Mario can’t help but relax into the touch, running a hand up under Marco’s shirt to rest his palm over his heart, feeling the steady beat there. The sensation of Marco nosing into his hair makes him smile despite himself. 

“Stay,” Marco murmurs softly, breath stirring the fine hair at Mario’s temple. 

Mario hesitates. They don’t really do sleepovers; he usually leaves in the evenings to go back to his parents’ place. It’s easier that way and spares Mario from having to answer awkward questions from his parents, or their teammates for that matter. Mario doesn’t even want to imagine Mats’ face if Marco and he were to start showing up in the same car in the mornings. But when he tips his head back to meet Marco’s gaze, Mario finds he doesn’t have it in him to refuse him, so he nods and the smile Marco gives him in return makes his chest feel tight, like there isn’t enough air in the room all of a sudden.

Mario knows this won’t last, it can’t. Both of them are in way over their heads and Marco will come to his senses sooner or later, once the novelty of experimentation has worn off. But Mario is nothing if not an opportunist, and he will enjoy every last second of what he’s being given, not letting go of Marco until he absolutely has to. Marco is here for now and his chest is warm beneath Mario’s cheek, rising and falling steadily with every intake of breath. And if Mario has to settle for a few weeks, or months of happiness, then there’s no place he’d rather spend it. 

~


End file.
